Say what you wish about crime lords. They pay their debts on time.

“Greetings, sir!” Percy smiled at him, as the necromancer approached his rival’s shop to revel in his victory. The boy had traded his clothes for the brown uniform of Lyonesse’s city watch, although he had been allowed to carry his bow instead of a spear. “Good to see you.”

The boy had followed his advice, and the City Watch had sent him to guard the shop until officials could investigate the place. Good for him.

“Don’t mind me, Percy, I’m just… taking in the sights.” Tye couldn’t help but feel a smug sense of satisfaction when he watched the sign ‘closed by royal decree’ nailed in front of the shop’s door.

‘By royal decree of His Majesty, the King of Avalon, Runewell’s shops will be foreclosed until a royal court can decide on the disbandment of the consortium,’ the necromancer read mentally with a smug grin. ‘Runewell stands accused of falsifying their accounts, avoiding to pay their due to the crown, bribery of officials…’

The list went on and on, including almost every financial crime the necromancer knew of, and some he didn’t know existed.

Ah, not paying your taxes. The only thing guaranteed to send the authorities after you. Bribery, price-cutting, and other practices could be tolerated, but not dodging the kingdom's tax collectors. Very smart of Mockingbird, and it had only taken her three days after their meeting to make the hammer fall. The necromancer had even taken a break from his underground item crafting sessions to see that for himself.

“It is unsightly to find joy in the suffering of others.” Tye turned around to see Lady Yseult walking by, escorted by a knight in shining armor. Much to the necromancer’s delight, the treatment had given her back her vigor; like a flower growing back with the sun, her radiance had slowly begun to return. “Even if the punishment is deserved.”

“No one is perfect.” Tye shrugged. With all the good he did for the world, he could indulge from time to time. “It is unusual to see you outside the temple at this hour, milady.”

“Jarl Gales has arrived in the city with his elite guard.”

“I heard.” With his rivals done for, the Jarl’s retinue had been forced to go through Tye for a cure to his own poison gas; which he had sold at a high price. “Do not tell me that you intend to join a raid?”

“There will be no raid for the foreseeable future.” The lady shook her head grimly. “The Jarl’s vengeance will come after his duty to our people.”

Duty? If a Jarl moved to a city like Lyonesse with troops, it could only mean two things. “Are goblins going to invade?” Percy voiced Tye’s own thoughts.

“No.” The priestess’ expression darkened. “We can expect far worse.”

The other option. Damn. “Which realm?” Tye asked, suddenly on edge.

“According to our [Astrologers], either Muspelheim or Jotunheim.”

Hopefully the second. Muspelheim would be the second worst-case scenario, after Helheim. “How long do we have?”

“Less than two days, according to the Academy’s mages,” the priestess said, which was way too short for the necromancer’s liking. “I am to make an announcement, alongside the city’s council, the Lord Mayor, and the Jarl: all citizens will be asked to either stay at home or contribute to the defense effort. I am afraid we will have to requisition your item stocks for the army’s needs, my friend.”

“I understand perfectly,” the necromancer replied, although he would keep his best work for his servants first and foremost. “I will provide direct magical support as well.”

“Excuse me,” Percy finally mustered the courage to interrupt the conversation. “Are we… are we facing…”

“Yes,” Tye replied, grimly. “A Convergence of the Realms.”

Moments like these reminded Walter Tye why he hated chaos.

In the end, one could have the best-laid plans, accounted for all rational factors… only for the improbable to intrude and cast everything down.

“It’s not that bad,” Laufey said. The necromancer had retreated in his laboratory to forge a new weapon, surrounded by his elites. The dark elf sat on a table while petting one of her creatures, a monstrous, horse-sized hellhound with black scales, blazing eyes, and a fiery breath.

“Besides the possibility of testing our new weapons earlier than expected, I fail to see how a rampaging army of giants can help us,” Tye replied, as he finished applying the last rune to a bone mace.

A Convergence wasn’t an adventurer raid. Adventurers were relatively simple to manage. They valued their life, their pockets, and their fun. They could be predicted and repelled easily enough, as his recent slime experiment proved.

The monsters that came through the breaches, though? They weren’t looters, mercenaries, or youngsters with the head full of dreams.

They were invaders. They came to conquer and kill.

And both options weren’t good. The frost giants of Jotunheim were barbarians, wildly chaotic and unpredictable. The fire giants of Muspelheim were a regimented army, well-organized and frighteningly effective.

If the undeads survived the Convergence, there would certainly be opportunities for crafting from the remains, but the risks far outweighed the benefits.

“I have been asked to join a battalion of support mages,” the dark elf said, her demonic hound purring in appreciation as she scratched his ear. “Most of them members of the Academy… and including the princess’ lapdog.”

Tye briefly paused in his work. “Morgane?”

“The fun thing about battles… accidents and friendly fire happens all the time.”

The necromancer pondered the possibility, but something else came to mind. “I have a job for you,” said Tye. “But it will need skill and discretion.”

“Silly undead, those are my two middle names.”

Tye shrugged and handed the mace to Hagen. “Here is your weapon, [Skulltaker].”

“Thanks, boss.” The dullahan gladly examined the weapon. Shaped from the leg of a giant, the mace vaguely appeared like a crudely reshaped femur from afar. Tye had sculpted the head in the shape of a skull. “What does it do?”

“It inflicts supereffective damage against [Humanoids], with a ten percent chance to slay them outright unless they are protected from [Instadeath]. In that case, the victim’s body is destroyed in a burst of negative energy which will harm the living in the vicinity. It can also be used as a flail.”

“Neat,” the dullahan said as he tried the weapon, the skull head separating from the handheld, although both were joined by a spine-like chain.

“Impressive, but brutish,” Duke said while wielding his own weapon, the handle of a rapier. The blade itself had been turned ghostly through enchantments, and could now not only surprise enemies but drain their very vitality. “My weapon is the pinnacle of skill.”

Spook responded by showing off three bone claws on each hand, radiating with a dark aura.

In total, Tye had the time to craft six weapons outside the mace. The soul-drinking [Malicious Claws] for Spook, whose wounds would never heal; the rapier [Masked Sword], whose invisible blade would surprise the unwary; the vampiric dagger [Black Athame] for Laufey, to whom he didn’t reveal all of its abilities; the bow [Heartseeker], which he entrusted to his goblin servants, and whose arrows would always strike a heart true.

And of course, the necromancer had kept his best work for himself.

As he seized his weapon, Tye found himself in awe of the final result. The artifact was a long scepter rod two meters tall, its dragonbone material tainted black by the infusion of souls. An ankh symbol throned at its top, with a yellowish, living eye within the circle part. A screen appeared to him, as he reviewed its abilities.

Ankh Scepter Apophis

Quality: S-

Material: Soulcrafted Dragonbone.

Endurance: 250/250.

Damage: Physical +10/Magical +35

Bonus: +10 CHA/[Enthrall], [Charm], [Insta-death] immunity/Resistance to [Life].

Weight: 2 kgs.

A vile weapon crafted from the bones of a dragon and imbued with the malice of the dead. If Apophis touches a living being, the creature must succeed on a [Vitality] check or have their soul ripped from their body; no check is allowed on a critical hit. The soul is stored inside a stone tablet and can be summoned by Apophis’ wielder as a [Dark Spirit] until the tablet is destroyed. If a [Dark Spirit] is destroyed but the tablet is not, it rejuvenates twenty-four hours later.

Additionally, Apophis can redirect any teleportation or summoning effect within thirty-feet to a new valid destination within that same radius, and immediately apply the [Enthrall] ailment to the victim if they fail a charisma check.

Tye had decided to call it Apophis after an ancient serpent said to return to life night after night; a true symbol of undeath and immortality, of defying the cycle of the world. It was the perfect weapon to preserve souls in preparation for raising them later; for the necromancer was nothing, if not compassionate.

“And what about that one, boss?” the dullahan asked, looking at the huge dragon’s skull. Tye had removed all the fangs to forge his scepter, replacing them with gemstones.

The necromancer snapped his fingers, green lights appearing in the empty eye-sockets. The skull floated on his own, much to his servants’ confusion. “It’s our ultimate weapon, but we need a large space to deploy it,” the necromancer said. “I was thinking about the bigger caverns of Level One, or even outside the dungeon if the situation calls for it.”

In fact, he was unsure if he could control the beast, since the process had imbued it with intellect.

With these weapons, his newly empowered goblins, and the alchemical rats, the necromancer had bolstered the dungeon’s defenses. He was confident he could push back any raid not headed by the most powerful of adventurers.

But a Convergence… a Convergence was something else entirely.

As if to answer his thoughts, tremors began to shake the dungeon.

The quake sent potions and vials crashing on the ground, and Tye himself almost lost his footing. Laufey flew away from her table, above the ground, while the rest of the undead hanged on as well as they could.

Tye immediately summoned a [Ghostly Mirror], watching through the surroundings of Lyonesse.

A fortified city, Lyonesse had been built on an island between Midgard’s endless ocean and the vast Vimur river. On its northern shores was the thick forest of Brocéliande, a realm of fairies and other creatures. On the south lay flat banks, and the royal road linking the cities of Avalon together.

The main access to Lyonesse was a massive southern bridge, which, through ancient mechanisms, could be pulled underwater in times of war. Otherwise, immense stone ramparts surrounded the island-city from all sides and rose sheer of the water; making a siege exceedingly difficult.

Would it stop giants though? Certainly not the forces of Muspelheim. The frost jotun would be easier to handle, but also more unpredictable.

Tye moved his spiritual sight beyond the ramparts, to the southern shore, and saw them.

Cracks in the very fabric of reality; shards falling from the world itself like fragments of a broken mirror. A rift that spread, and spread, breaking the earth. Blinding light came through these cracks, the glimpse of another universe, similar yet so different from that of men.

“It has begun.”

They had hours at most before the cracks grew large enough to allow monsters through. They would then probably try to conquer the area and lay waste to the closest population center; namely Lyonesse.

“Hagen, put the dungeon on lockdown until further notice,” the necromancer ordered, as he ended his spell. “The monsters might try to find any way into the city; including from below.”

“Nobody will get past us, boss.”

“Good. Laufey, with me. We will join the human defenders above, try to contain the situation there… and deal with our princess problem then.”

“As you wish,” the dark elf replied. “As for my mission…”

“You said accidents happened, and doubly so in a siege,” Tye agreed. “An incident in the dungeon would bring undue interest on me. The death of the princess within the tunnels would rally many to conquer the dungeon, making her a martyr.”

But if it was a giant’s doing, and on the battlefield…

Well, that would just be a tragedy.